


Stain on White

by quietprofanity



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Half-Sibling Incest, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-11
Updated: 2010-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietprofanity/pseuds/quietprofanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian visits Sean at the Dakota in 1990, although not for the reasons everyone else thinks, or even for the reason he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stain on White

“That’s right. It’s been ten years, hasn’t it?”

The taxi driver’s voice snaps Julian out of his thoughts, although he can’t blame the man for the interruption. His mind had been following along the same lines as he’d stared out the rain-streaked window at the waterlogged signs, wilted flowers and melted candles left in front of the Dakota.

“Ten years and three weeks,” Julian says.

The driver lets out a soft, sympathetic grunt and shakes his head. He says something about being sorry that Julian can’t quite parse – sometimes the accents here give him trouble – and Julian thinks of making him repeat it but decides against it. He’s talked about this a lot in the past three weeks, with his mother and Paul and journalists and complete strangers, and at this point it doesn’t feel sad so much as surreal.

Ten years. He’d been seventeen.

The taxi driver has stopped talking, and Julian takes it as a good opportunity to reach into his wallet. The ride from John F. Kennedy to here had been longer than he expected, but he tips generously, because people will remember if he doesn’t.

“Hey, how can you stand it?” the driver asks as he strains his head back toward Julian, takes the money with his right hand.

“My father?”

“No, I mean,” he gestures to the building. Disgust lingers in his voice as he says the next word. “Her.”

Oh, _her_. Julian forces a smile. The answer is complicated and never satisfies anyone, so he dodges. “Yoko isn’t here right now. I’m here to see Sean.”

“Still, I wouldn’t be visiting him.”

“He is my brother,” Julian says.

“Heh. I don’t like seeing my asshole brothers anyway, and I ain’t had anything near happen to me that you did.”

Julian smirks and pulls his hood over his head. “Thanks, mate.”

Water leaps from the street as the taxi screeches down West 72nd Street. Julian steps onto the sidewalk, walks toward the stout, blue-blazered doorman in front of his brass booth. The doorman starts when he turns in Julian’s direction, and Julian has trouble not getting upset. He’s not a ghost, even if he is turning up on a dark and stormy night at an enormous gothic building that’s been made into site to remember the dead.

The doorman seems to realize his mistake and smiles. “Welcome back, Mr. Lennon,” he says, and he opens the door. “Your brother has been expecting you.”

Julian thanks him and enters the Dakota. He makes his way through the lobby, tells the man at the desk to buzz Sean for him, and then heads to the elevator. As it climbs upstairs, Julian realizes he’s not quite sure why he’s here. Of course, Sean had asked him, had called him a few days after the anniversary and seemed to almost beg him to come. It would have been easy to assume the invitation was about that, but Sean was always the type to attempt to handle these things on his own.

Still, Julian hadn’t argued. He’d wanted to see Sean, as well. He never would deny the chance to see him, even if Yoko was around, although it made it more comfortable that she wasn’t.

The elevator opens and Sean is already standing in the hallway. As soon as Sean catches sight of him he jumps for him, his arms wrapping around Julian’s neck. Julian immediately hugs him back.

“Hey, you’re here,” Sean says, his voice quiet but nevertheless bubbling with excitement. He squeezes Julian’s neck a second time. “Awesome. It’s so awesome you’re here.”

Julian chuckles. He can feel something inside his chest warm. “I’m happy to be here too,” he says. He gently pushes Sean away, steps back to take a look at him. Sean is getting older, but he still looks young. Julian can see the telltale signs of stubble along Sean’s chin, and his voice has dropped recently. Yet it would impossible to mistake him for an adult. Large swaths of his chubby cheeks are still smooth. He’s also gained some weight recently – it seems like both of them have picked up that unfortunate tendency from their father – and it gives Julian the impression that Sean’s body isn’t sure which way it wants to grow. Sean’s feet are bare on the tiled floor but otherwise he’s fully covered, dressed in loose jeans and a dress shirt layered over a T-shirt. It makes Sean look like he was trying to hide from something, yet his dark, wavy hair combed over his eye tells the world he’s still somewhat concerned with looking cool.

“Come on in,” Sean says, grabbing onto Julian’s hand.

Julian lets himself be led into the apartment. He’s been here a few times before, remembers the stark walls and carpet and furniture: white on white on white again. While he’s tried to be a grown-up about the situation, the place always makes him slightly uncomfortable. It reminds him of that press conference. He can close his eyes and see his father on the telly, his hand intertwined with his new wife’s on that big white bed. He can close his eyes and remember feeling like he’d been erased.

After Julian takes off his long overcoat and puts it on a hanger by the door, Sean pulls him down to one of the couches. Sean exhales as he sits down on the other couch next to him.

“So, uh, do you want anything? Mom left us food.”

“I’m quite all right,” Julian leans back on the couch. “Just trying to relax after that flight.”

“Oh, heh,” Sean scratches the back of his head, and it seems to shake his glasses loose. He pushes them back on his nose. “Yeah, I guess you would. Well, do you want a drink maybe? Do you want to go to bed? We can do something later or … you know, now.”

Julian studies Sean for a moment. Something about this doesn’t feel quite right. Sean seems more skittish than normal, almost restless.

“No, I don’t need anything,” Julian says. He tries to sit up a bit, to show he’s paying attention even though, having sat on the couch, part of him just wants to sleep. “But how are you? You seemed to really want to see me. Are things going well with … with, everything?”

Sean’s eyes widen. “Oh … that. Um …,” Sean pulls his knees up to his chest and hugs them, his toes hanging over the side of the couch like a monkey’s. “It’s been okay, I guess. Mom planned a lot for this. TV interviews and art shows and stuff like that.”

“Has that been all right for her?” Julian asks, rubbing his chin with his palm.

“Oh yeah. I mean, I don’t know,” His knees sway a bit as he talks. “It kind of invigorates her, makes her feel closer to him. You know how it is.”

Julian doesn’t really know, and given how his own mother has been for more than a decade he doesn’t quite understand. “I’ve done a few things,” he says. “I’m glad it’s over right now.”

“Yeah, for real,” Sean says. He rests his chin on his knees “Though I always kind of feel bad about that. But… I don’t know. I feel like I needed to clear my head.”

Julian nods. He supposes he sort of got his answer there. He leans his head back on the couch, his arms resting along the top and his eyes suddenly feel heavy. He blinks hard, trying to stay awake. He doesn’t really want to sleep.

Sean raises his head. “Hey, uh …” he lowers his feet to the floor, although when they reach the ground they don’t stay still, and Sean sort of bounces on the balls of his feet. “You don’t mind if I sit closer to you, right?”

Julian shakes his head. “Of course not.”

Sean shoots straight up, almost leaps from the chair in Julian’s eyes, then sits next to him on the couch. Actually, he almost snuggles against Julian’s right side, not leaving any space between them. It makes Julian laugh a bit, and he rests his right hand on Sean’s shoulder.

Sean laughs, although more nervously. “Cool. Yeah, cool.” Sean reaches forward and grabs a remote control. “Let’s watch some TV.”

The telly pops to life with a whispered explosion of static, which gets strangled as Sean flips through the channels before finally settling on MTV. The video that’s playing now is of a woman with short blonde hair wearing a tight black shirt. She sings against a backdrop of flowing sheets. The video cuts to her band and one of the guys is playing a guitar like the one his father used to play. Julian sighs.

“Do you want me to change it?” Sean asks. “This song isn’t that great but I think it’s almost over.”

“You can decide,” Julian says. He leans his head back on the couch again, the tinkling of the piano seems to lull him to sleep. He closes his eyes, and for a short period of time his world seems to shrink down to that: the song and darkness and the warmth of Sean’s body.

Sean shifts and Julian wakes up again. Only this time on the telly Paula Abdul is dancing with a cartoon cat. Julian looks at Sean and he seems a bit embarrassed.

“Sorry,” Julian says. “I drifted off for a bit.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Sean responds. He’s staring at the TV with what Julian thinks is more interest than it deserves. The sudden distance surprises Julian. He was so sure Sean wanted to talk about something, or to do something. It doesn’t seem to make sense that this is all he wants.

The next video is Bell Biv Devoe’s “Poison,” and despite the bouncy beat, he feels his eyelids getting heavy again. He dozes once more, although the feeling of Sean next to him is still present in the haze. At one point he feels like Sean’s hand is resting against his chest. It slowly moves to his shoulder.

“Jules?” Sean says. “Hey, Jules?”

Julian wakes up. Sean still has his hand on his chest and his eyes are blazing.

Then, before Julian can process his shock, Sean seems to falter. He takes his hand off, seems to scrunch his neck into his shoulders like a turtle.

“Do you, um, do you like coming here to see me?”

The question shocks Julian. “Of course,” he says. “Sean, I just had an eight-hour flight. That’s all.”

What he says doesn’t seem to satisfy Sean, but Sean nods anyway. “Yeah. Yeah, I know … I just … I guess I was just wondering.”

Julian sighs. They may both be kind of worn out from everything. He gives Sean another hug, and Sean responds by kissing his cheek.

The gesture makes Julian smile. It really is nice to see Sean. It always has been. It’s hard to look at him now, all grown up and teenage and awkward, and not remember that little boy in Palm Beach, so cheerful and eager to play. He kisses Sean back.

Then Sean plants his hands on either side of Julian’s face, holds him still and kisses him on the lips. Hard.

For the first few seconds, Julian’s brain scrambles for an explanation. He’s excited. He’s making a joke. This isn’t what it looks like. Then he feels Sean’s tongue in his mouth, scraping against his teeth like he’s not quite sure what to do with it.

Julian grips onto Sean’s arms and pushes him away, although he doesn’t let him go. Julian holds Sean in place on the couch. Sean’s mouth is slack open, his eyes wide like a startled animal suddenly caught in a light.

“Sean …” he says. He speaks slowly, calmly. He’s not mad. He has no reason to be mad, but the scared look in Sean’s eyes makes Julian want to be extra careful. “Why did you do that?”

Sean stares stone-faced back at Julian, his lip trembling slightly. He opens his mouth, seems to form the word “I” but it dies before Sean can make a sound.

It’s too much for Julian. He inhales sharply, and then lets Sean go. “It’s all right,” he says, trying his best to not make him feel uncomfortable. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No!”

Sean wraps his arms around Julian’s neck and tries to kiss him again. Julian pushes him back, and while Sean doesn’t make another attempt he keeps his grip on Julian tight as he collapses on his chest, buries his face in his chest.

“Fuck,” Sean mutters into his chest. “Don’t. Please don’t leave. Please don’t. Fuck.”

Julian reaches out a trembling hand, rests it on Sean’s head as his other arm holds Sean to him. Part of this situation scares him, and another part breaks his heart. He has no idea why Sean is acting like this, and the kiss, which he can still feel on his lips like a ghost, makes his body feel tight and warm in a way that it really shouldn’t.

“I wouldn’t leave,” Julian says. The words feel like a knot inside him beginning to loosen.

Sean grips onto him harder. His back moves up and down with his heavy breathing. When he finally lets Julian go, his eyes are red beneath his glasses, which have left a mark on the bridge of his nose.

“Jules …” Sean swallows. “Do you … um … I love you.” The last phrase he says so quickly, almost like it’s one word, and Julian can’t tell if he’s trying to diminish its meaning or if it means too much for him to say it normally. Then he just stares at Julian, as if he’s waiting for an answer, and Julian knows why he’s here.

 _Oh God_ , he thinks, his mind somewhere between revulsion and pity. His brother is 15. His brother is probably gay. His brother wants him. He thinks of Sean sitting on this couch, this blank couch in this room of white on white and white, counting down the hours, dreaming of the moment when he would walk through the door. Hadn’t Sean been right there to meet him? Hadn’t Sean been so eager to give him a hug and sit next to him? How long had he sat there, the need bubbling beneath his skin?

“Sean,” Julian whispers. He pulls his younger brother to his chest. Sean cranes his neck upward, tries to kiss him again, but Julian lightly presses two fingers to Sean’s lips before he can. “Sean, I love you too, but we can’t do that.”

Sean grips onto Julian’s hand, pulls it away from his mouth. “It’s all I can fucking think about!”

Julian shakes his head. “You’re young,” he says. He realizes he probably sounds condescending, but he means it. There’s something about having Sean in his arms that takes him back to that time when he was flush with hormones, so eager for what he couldn’t have. “I know things have been rough this past month, so …”

“I’ve wanted this for over a year,” Sean says.

Julian feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He pulls away from Sean. “What?”

“I’m not joking,” Sean says. While he’s not touching Julian, he’s still leaned forward, as if he could pounce on Julian at any moment. “I don’t know how it started. I think a part of me always hoped I could grow up and live with you when I was little, but in the past year I just-”

“Sean…” Julian pleads. He doesn’t want to listen anymore. He feels like he should be bigger than this. He should just take Sean by the shoulders and tell him in a kind voice how to wait, how to find someone else, but he feels like something inside him is fracturing under the desperation of Sean’s words. “Sean, even if I wanted to, we can’t.”

“Why not?” Sean asks. The question seems to give him his nerve back. He sits up straight on the couch, almost proud. “Dad lost his virginity to his cousin when he was my age.”

Julian groans. As if he would ever follow their father’s lead in any sort of sexual advice.

“No,” he presses his palm to his forehead. “No, that’s a lie. That’s some nonsense Dad said to disarm a journalist or whatnot. Anyway, even if it were true, his cousin was his age at the time. I’m twelve years older than you.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’s illegal.”

“No one will find out.”

“Your mother?”

“I’m not going to tell her that.”

“But if she finds out – ”

“I want this!”

“That’s not going to matter.”

“To who?” Sean asks. His voice isn’t loud, but it’s the angriest that Julian’s ever heard it in years. “Do you really think they’re going to throw John Lennon’s son in prison for this?”

Julian thinks about that for a moment. They could. They definitely could. The Japanese government was ready to lock up Paul for a while there. Maybe he’d spend a couple of years in a prison segregated from the other criminals. He thinks of how this would look to the press: John Lennon’s sons and their incestuous tryst mere weeks after the anniversary of their father’s death. What a shock! Isn’t it a shame? Don’t they look so much like their fathers?

God, he hasn’t even done anything yet and he already feels defensive.

But he has to be responsible, so he shakes his head. “It’s still not right. You’re a kid. I’d be taking advantage of you.”

“I want this,” Sean grabs onto Julian’s left hand. “Come on, we’ve talked about so much stuff like I’m an adult but when it’s about sex I suddenly can’t understand it?”

“This isn’t like when I taught you how to play guitar,” Julian pulls his hand away from Sean and stands up. He feels bad for pulling away like this, but the closer Sean gets to him the harder it is to think straight. He walks over to the window. New York’s beautiful skyline stands in front of him but he can’t look beyond the glass pane. It’s nothing but a haze of blue with tiny yellow lights. Yet it is better than looking at all this white.

Julian doesn’t need to look around to know Sean’s standing behind him. He can feel his presence there like the warmth of a bright fire. After a full minute, he speaks.

“Jules? Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Julian sighs, starts to turn back to Sean. “Just because I don’t have a girlfriend doesn’t mean …”

He stops. Sean stands stiffly on the carpet, as if he’ll topple over if he doesn’t keep himself steady. Seeing Sean like this, Julian remembers himself on his first date. She’d been a year younger, and before they held hands he would wipe his palms on his trousers to keep the sweat away. She was pretty, and bubbly, and she didn’t want to talk about anything but his father.

It’s times like this when Julian thinks that, yes, Sean does look like their father, especially around the nose. (He looks like his mother, too, but that’s beside the point.) Yet when Julian looks at him, he can only see Sean: the young boy playing on the sand in Palm Beach, eleven years old and his fingers stumbling over the strings on the guitar neck, thirteen and standing on stage with him at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

“My mother’s on her fourth husband,” Julian says, although not with the conviction he wants.

Sean takes a step toward him. Then he takes another. Julian meets him the rest of the way.

Julian rests a hand on either side of Sean’s cheeks as he bends down to kiss him. The second kiss is just as messy and weird as the first. Sean opens his mouth too widely, almost drools out the sides of his mouth. It makes a part of Julian falter, reminds him of how young Sean is and how he shouldn’t be doing this. He tries to take a bit of control of the situation – the idea of pushing Sean too hard to do what he wants still feels like a betrayal – and delves inside Sean’s mouth in slow, controlled movements, trying to caress Sean’s tongue. It makes Sean stop, makes him let out a deep, satisfied moan.

Julian kisses Sean briefly on the lips before he pulls away. Sean’s eyes are closed, his mouth open as he breathes heavily. Sean grabs onto Julian’s neck with his hands.

“Do that again,” Sean begs between his panting. “Fuck, do that again.”

Julian obliges, kissing him in those slow strokes. Sean isn’t a fast learner but he’s trying, imitating the movements of Julian’s tongue back to him. Meanwhile, Julian’s getting to know his taste, his smell. Sean smells, Julian realizes, like youth, although youth doesn’t have the smell he thought it did. It’s sweat, Clearasil and a bit too much cologne. Sean suddenly leaps onto Julian, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and his legs around his hips. He’s a bit too heavy, but Julian is able to hold him up for a bit as he stumbles backward onto the couch.

If it were anyone else, Julian would think to laugh at himself for that awkward move, but it’s Sean, it’s his brother, and that casts a pall of gravity over the situation that even the playful moments can’t disperse. Sean doesn’t laugh either. His lusts seem to have made him barely cognizant of anything else. His hands rove over Julian’s chest, awkwardly pulling the white shirt he’s wearing under his vest open. Sean then kisses down Julian’s neck and torso, caught up in the eagerness of touching him. As Sean moves over Julian he rubs his groin down his body, and Julian realizes he can feel Sean’s erection through the fabric.

This shouldn’t arouse him, Julian thinks. He should be separate from this. He’s kind. He’s gentle. He’s responsible. And people like that don’t have sex with their younger half-brothers, even if his is determined to crawl all over him and stroke him until he can’t … no, no. He could push him away. He should push him away. This is going to scar him; this is going to ruin both of them somehow.

Yet he doesn’t. Sean straddles one of Julian’s thighs and starts rubbing up against him and Julian throws back his head and moans. He has to be good. If he has to do this he shouldn’t push Sean into anything, shouldn’t demand anything, yet the image of himself pushing Sean onto his back, lubing him up and fucking him senseless won’t leave his head. He can feel himself getting hard.

He runs his hand down Sean’s back. God, Sean feels so warm, looks so desperate and eager as he ruts against him. Sean thrusts against him faster and …

Julian furrows his brow as Sean sighs and collapses on top of him. _No_ , Julian thinks. _He can’t really be done, can he?_ Yet the smile stretched across Sean’s face says otherwise.

 _Shit_ , Julian thinks, and then immediately feels bad and selfish for doing so.

(And he wishes the memory that comes to mind now wasn’t of him, around eleven years old, sitting by the pool in California with his father, May, George and a few others. His father had asked George to give him some advice on sex. George, perhaps sensing Julian’s discomfort, simply raised an eyebrow and said, “You only get one virgin.” Julian had been too dumbfounded to say anything, but the answer had made his father laugh so hard he fell off his beach chair.)

Sean lifts his head off Julian’s chest, his wavy black hair sticking to his forehead. Julian tries to look happy, but it doesn’t work. Sean’s smile immediately melts.

“That … that wasn’t good, was it?” Sean asks.

There is no good answer to that, so Julian tries to smile again and says the first one that comes to mind, “It’s all right. It happens to a lot of people.”

His words are as ineffective as he feared they would be. Sean looks crestfallen. “Shit …” he whispers.

Julian sighs. He has to do something to make Sean feel better, especially because Sean could very well be having regrets. He pushes himself up on his elbows. “Come on, let me sit up.”

Sean does, sitting on the other side of the couch. Julian feels a little lightheaded as he moves closer to Sean, although his erection is gone now. So he doesn’t feel as guilty when he reaches out and strokes his hand across Sean’s sweat-dampened hair. Actually, the sweat is on more than just his hair. He looks like he just stepped out of a sauna wearing all of his clothes. Even his glasses look a bit fogged over.

Julian reaches for Sean’s overshirt. “Let’s take this off,” Julian says.

Sean hunches his shoulders in on himself, flinching away from Julian’s grip. “You don’t need to.”

“You look really uncomfortable,” Julian says, and gently lays his hand on Sean’s shoulders.

Sean sighs, although he doesn’t protest as Julian pulls the overshirt off his body, letting his arms fall limp as Julian peels off the sleeves. Julian then pushes back Sean’s hair from his eyes and removes his glasses.

“Is that better?” Julian asks.

Sean forces a smile. He’s still upset by this, but Julian can tell he’s trying to be better. A warm feeling simmers underneath Julian’s chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” Julian says. “Please.”

Sean shrugs. “I guess it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me …”

The meaning of that statement hits Julian, and he frowns. “Don’t bring out the gallows humor for this.”

“I’m sorry,” Sean mutters.

Julian tries not to shake his head. He loves Sean. Sometimes being with Sean makes him feel young, makes remember when sex was something scary and awkward but wonderful just because it was so wanted and so new, and sometimes it just makes him remember when he was a melodramatic and resentful brat.

But Christ, he’s being unfair. It’s not as if there’s a correct way to behave in the situation they’ve made for themselves.

“Let’s get up,” Julian says, standing up holding out his hands to Sean. “You’ll be wanting to change, won’t you?”

Sean takes Julian’s hands and lets Julian pull him to his feet. Sean walks in the direction of his room, his gait a bit stiff, and Julian lingers behind as Sean opens the door and goes inside.

“What are you, a vampire?” Sean calls after a few moments. “You don’t need to be invited in.”

Julian rolls his eyes but enters the room. Immediately after walking in, he starts. Sean is completely naked. He’s turned away from him, cleaning himself off with his t-shirt before tossing it on the floor. Julian wonders if it's an invitation before Sean frowns, pulls a thin, ratty yukata around him and sits on his bed.

Julian has no idea what Sean means by this, and Sean’s just staring at him. He wonders if he should try to say something else that’s reassuring, or if he should go.

“Come on!” Sean suddenly bursts out. “Can’t you sit next to me? Don’t you like me at all?”

“Of course!” Julian practically sprints over to his bed, tries to embrace Sean, but Sean flinches away again.

“You keep looking at me like you hate me,” Sean says, his arms crossed in front of him.

“No,” Julian says, letting his hand rest on Sean’s shoulder. “No, I was just a little frustrated. I love you.”

“Not the way I love you,” Sean says, his eyes downcast.

That may be so, in a sense. Julian hasn’t been waiting months upon months to be here. He would have never thought of being in this situation, and in some ways it feels more like some compulsion that’s driving him forward, like he just caught sight of the White Rabbit scurrying down the hole and needs to see where it leads. And yet in other ways that’s not true at all. Julian puts his fingers underneath Sean’s chin and forces Sean to look at him.

“I love you very, very much,” Julian says. “You’re my only brother. You’re the only one who really understands what it’s like to be me. When …” and Julian pauses for a moment, because this is so hard to say and he’s sure it won’t come out right, but he has to try anyway, “When Dad left my mother and I it broke my heart. There were some good times after that, but … I never quite got over feeling rejected until I met you. I thought if he had to leave so he could have you, then maybe it was a little bit all right.”

Sean smiles weakly. “You’re talking about Dad when I really want you to just fuck me?”

Julian kisses Sean’s lips briefly. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

For a moment Sean just stares up at him and then, in a flash, his already dark eyes seem to somehow turn darker. “I want you to fuck me,” he says again, his already-quiet voice turned into a deep rasp.

Julian’s body stirs at the words, and within a moment he’s harder than he was before. God, that’s what he wants. It sickens him to think that way, but he finds himself pulling Sean close to him, rubbing a hand down his buttocks through the soft, thinning fabric.

Julian kisses Sean fiercely. As he does, he can feel Sean’s hand move along his waist, and then his rear, tentatively exploring. Sean then squeezes his forearm between their bodies and, after a moment’s hesitation, gropes the front of his trousers. His touch is clumsy, a bit too rough, but it makes him shiver, anyway.

“Will you?” Sean says. His voice no longer deep, is tinged with insecurity. “I have things. I have condoms. I have KY.”

Julian nods, loosens his grip on Sean. “Go get them.”

Sean turns and lies on his stomach, reaches underneath his pillow. He looks back at Julian. “Hey, can you turn the light off?”

Julian is about to protest. With something like this, he wants to be able to see what he’s doing. Then he remembers being young, and how he felt about his body back then. He strokes Sean’s back.

“I want to see you,” Julian says.

Sean bites his bottom lip, then nods. He pulls out the condoms and squeeze tube, then turns onto his back, still pulling the yukata around him.

 _I should probably help him feel more comfortable_ , Julian thinks. He pulls open and off his vest, then unbuttons the rest of his white shirt. As he does this, Julian looks down at Sean. His smooth, bare chest is visible behind the folds of his clothing. Julian’s own chest is covered with hair. So are his arms, and a part of his hands, and he wonders if he shouldn’t be the embarrassed one.

Sean sits up and reaches for Julian. He runs his hands through the hair on his chest. Julian strains a smile as he unbuckles his belt, pushes it off with the rest of his pants.

Following his lead, Sean pulls off the yukata, crab-walks backwards onto the bed. Julian crawls over him. He wasn’t sure what he’d think when he saw Sean naked. His skin is smooth, although imperfect, occasionally marked with similar moles as the one above his lip. His body is mostly hairless except for the dark shadow around his half-hard cock. And while a part of him wishes Sean were older, another part of him can’t do away with the urge to lick him.

Julian grabs one of the pillows on Sean’s bed. “Can you lift your hips?”

Sean does, and Julian pushes the pillow underneath him. As Sean settles back down onto it, Julian pushes open his legs. Julian lets his hands linger along Sean’s thighs, then picks up the tube. It’s new, and Julian has to struggle for a moment before the seal breaks. He spreads it along his fingers. Then Julian pushes Sean’s knees back against his stomach, trying to open him wider.

Julian pushes his lubed fingers against Sean’s entrance, and Sean immediately tenses up, almost flinching at Julian’s touch.

“Sean?” Julian asks, wondering if he should pull away.

“Sorry,” Sean says. “I’m okay now.”

“Just relax, all right?”

Sean nods, his gaze locked onto the ceiling.

Julian tries again. This time, his fingers go inside, but Sean still feels incredibly tight – almost like a clamp on his fingers. Every time Julian pushes further in, he wonders if he should. Then Sean starts to moan: small, short bursts of noise every time Julian moves inside him. They keep going as Julian thrusts deeper, almost pulling his fingers out entirely before pushing inside again.

After Sean loosens up a bit more, Julian fumbles with one of the condoms. He rips the package open and rolls it over himself. As he spreads more jelly over the condom, doubt seizes him again. He’s already been inside Sean, but this feels different, feels almost like he’s preparing to steal something. Julian doesn’t want to pull away anymore, but part of him wants it to be over quickly. Wants to fuck Sean fast and furious and get this urge, get whatever thinks is a good idea, out of him. On the other hand part of him worries if, when it is over, it’ll just feel worse. It’s like he’s leaning over a bridge, looking at the rushing water below, and this is the moment he’ll regret the rest of his life.

And then he realizes this is the time to jump.

Julian leans over and kisses Sean on the mouth. Then, fingers digging into Sean’s hips, he thrusts his cock inside.

They both gasp at the same time. Sean trails off into a moan, stretching against the bed like a cat. As for himself, _oh God_ , Julian thinks. It feels so good, mind-blowingly good. Even through the condom Sean feels warm. And Sean is still struggling with it, tensing and loosening around his cock.

Julian lays one of his hands on Sean’s stomach. He’s not sure how he has this self-control. At this point the need to fuck Sean almost screams inside him. Yet he has to do it this way. He can’t become what he’s been trying to mentally assure himself he’s not.

“Does it feel good?” Julian asks.

“Yes,” Sean says, although he’s still staring at the ceiling, his mouth curled back with tension. “Kind of. It almost feels good. I feel like I’m trying to hold my breath underwater.”

“You’re still tense. That’s all.” Julian strokes Sean’s stomach, and as the hard tension inside his stomach abates, he can feel Sean’s grip on him loosen.

“Good,” Julian says. “That’s very good, Sean.”

A desperate whimper escapes Sean’s mouth. Sean reaches out, strokes his hands along Julian’s forearms. He’s finally looking at Julian. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s good. Fuck me. Fuck me, Jules. Please.”

Julian does. He bends over so his hands are on either side of Sean’s head. The first few thrusts he tries to keep slow, but his self-control is tenuous. It doesn’t help that every time he thrusts Sean makes a noise that goes straight to his groin, that Sean is getting easier to fuck by the second. Within a few minutes he’s able to enter and exit him fast and easy.

Then Julian hits something, and Sean almost screams with pleasure. Julian pushes against the spot again, keeps doing it until Sean grabs onto Julian’s shoulders.

“Fuck,” Sean moans. “Fuck, this is so good. You’re so amazing, Jules. I love you.”

The words are hard to process through the haze of pleasure, through the controlled chaos of fucking him, but Julian manages to smile when he hears them. “I love you too, Sean,” he says through his own labored breathing. He runs a finger through Sean’s hair. Then he concentrates on fucking him, tries to concentrate on going faster instead of deeper.

In response, Sean keeps moaning – long, deep moans that always have a hint of begging. His eyes are shut tight and his head is thrown back against the mattress. Lying beneath him like that, Julian thinks Sean doesn’t look very much like a boy at all. He looks like any other adult Julian has had sex with: warm, wet, desperate in their own lust. It’s only when a smile creeps along Sean’s mouth, blissful in this new discovery, that he looks painfully, guiltily young.

Sean is nearing the end. The sounds he’s making come out quicker, almost like they’re being suddenly strangled. After a few seconds Sean reaches for his own cock. Julian closes his eyes, concentrates on how Sean feels – the tight heat around his penis, the sweat from Sean’s body slick around Julian’s thighs. He thinks of Sean now, so eager and ready to come, and he thinks of himself that first time. Thinks of himself as fifteen years old and wanting it so badly, wanting so much to do well. He remembers how every gesture had felt so forbidden but so needed, like quenching a thirst. He remembers how much he felt he had to prove, how somehow even his performance there would be some sort of warped reflection of his father.

He grasps onto Sean’s hand, runs his hand along Sean’s body, and he realizes suddenly that despite everything it is such a relief not to have to feel that way. Together like this they are not John Lennon’s sons. They’re just Julian and Sean. And Julian loves Sean. He loves this boy.

Julian comes right then, not very loudly but long, and it takes him at least six thrusts before he’s completely spent. Sean begins to come on the tail end of Julian’s orgasm, spilling all over his own hand, his moans at last fading as grasps for Julian, trembling and slick. Then he goes quiet, fulfilled at last.

Julian holds onto the base of the condom before he pulls out. He tries to get to the lavatory, but Sean suddenly sits up, throws his arms around Julian’s neck and kisses along his cheeks. Julian kisses him back.

“Stay,” Sean begs.

Julian shakes his head. “I have to wash up. You too.”

Sean grumbles but moves his hands away.

As Julian gets up, he finds it’s a bit hard to walk. Strange, he usually isn’t so physically affected. _Maybe it’s the guilt_ , he thinks. Yet that persistent, guilty ache in his chest is gone. Well, shouldn’t it be? What’s done is done, right?

Julian finds the lavatory and disposes of the condom. He looks in the mirror. It’s just his own face – the dark eyes, the long nose, the wavy, auburn hair. Julian wonders when he’ll look in the mirror and the guilt will set it. As he uses water from the sink to clean himself, Sean enters the lavatory, a towel wrapped around him and his yutaka in hand. Julian watches him in the mirror over the sink, thinks of how only a moment ago his hands were on him, his lips were kissing his. The water turns on with a screech, and Sean tests it with his hand before letting disappearing behind the curtain.

This shouldn’t feel so normal, Julian thinks. This feels too easy, feels undeserved. At the moment it feels almost … good.

Right when Julian is about to leave, Sean pops his head out from behind the curtain. “Hey, you’re going to sleep in my bed, right?”

“Of course,” Julian says. It’s an automatic response. He wonders why.

When he gets back to the room, Julian lies back on the bed to wait for Sean. Part of him wants to think more about what happened but his eyelids are heavy, want to slide closed every couple of seconds. He realizes he really wants Sean to get out of the shower soon, to curl up next to him like he was before.

And that’s when the guilt hits him, suddenly jarring him awake again. He’s not supposed to want anything. He thinks. Surely not. Or maybe so. Would it be better not to want anything, to say he did it all for Sean? Or would that be denying him entirely, hurting him more by pretending he felt nothing at all?

He’s not sure. All he knows is that he feels a little lonely.

Julian realizes after a little while that he can’t hear the water running anymore. He sits up, and when he still doesn’t hear it, he pulls on his boxers and goes to look for Sean.

It doesn’t take Julian long to find him. He’s sitting on the couch, his yukata wrapped around him again. He holds a white phone up to his ear with one hand, wraps the cord around his fingers with the other.

“I’m sorry …” Sean says into the phone. “… I know. Well, I don’t know. I was trying to say something to make it better.”

The sound of his voice – sad, nervous – makes Julian’s heart skip a beat, freezes him to the spot. It’s Yoko on the other end of the line. Julian somehow knows this. Yet Sean wouldn’t have told her, would he?

“Yeah. No, I know. I know why you feel that way. But I’m okay. Jules is here. And I’ll be here when you get back …” Sean doesn’t say anything for a long time. “No, of course. I love you, Mom.”

Julian still watches as Sean hangs up the phone, pulls his knees close to him. Then he can’t stay put anymore. He rushes over to Sean, crouches in front of him. When Julian gets close enough, he sees the tears streaming down Sean’s cheeks.

“Sean?” Julian asks, trying not to sound as alarmed as he feels.

Sean just stares at him, shellshocked. “Shit. You were listening to that?”

“What’s going on?” Julian asks. He doesn’t want to be so brusque, but he’s nervous. “Does she know?”

“Does she what? No! Jesus, no.” Sean wipes the tears from his eyes. “Look, it’s not a big deal …”

“But you were crying …” Julian says, grabbing onto one of Sean’s hands.

“It’s okay.”

“But if she hurt you …”

“She didn’t hurt my feelings!” Sean pulls his hand away from Julian, and Julian can see he’s starting to cry again. “Jesus, everyone in the world seems to want me to hate my mother. Don’t fucking do that. It’s not fair.”

Julian sighs. “No, no. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I’m trying to be better about that.” He moves to the couch and opens his arms. Sean leans into them eagerly.

They sit there on the couch for a little while like that. A few times Sean takes a deep breath and squeezes Julian tighter, as if, by holding onto Julian, he’s trying to let something else go.

“She had a dream about Kyoko,” Sean finally says.

The realization hits Julian suddenly. He doesn’t need to ask what that means, because he knows. Julian remembers her, of course, small and quiet in that ridiculous Scottish outfit their parents made the both of them wear. Yet what really comes to mind is hearing his own mother talking about it with Paul, how after Paul was gone his mother had asked him for hug and squeezed him until it hurt.

“You know, I meant it when I said I’d dreamed about living with you,” Sean sits up on the couch, wipes his eyes. “I guess I knew it couldn’t happen but, well, I didn’t think we’d be fucking either. Man, if I left her …”

Sean doesn’t say anything else. He looks like he’s ready to cry again.

Julian isn’t sure what to do. He remembers what Sean had said, but the thought of that, of taking Sean away with him anywhere, had never crossed his mind. Julian is young, but he’s old enough to know what is and isn’t feasible, old enough to know the difference between striving for a dream and wishing for something that won’t happen.

Julian wipes away Sean’s tears with his thumb, rests a hand against his palm.

“I’m never really going to leave,” Julian whispers.

“I know …” Sean says. He looks down at his knees.

“You might feel differently one day. You might want a boyfriend or a girlfriend. And I’ll still be your brother.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them say anything. Julian’s tired – he doesn’t even want to think about how late it is back home, how he hasn’t called his mother yet either – yet he has no urge to sleep.

It’s still dark outside, but in here, in this living room, the white is blinding, seems to make the entire room glow except for them, alone and together. Alone with what they’ve done hanging between them. It will always be there. And Julian realizes that although he knows this, a part of him will always want to be here with Sean in this bright room, dark stains on the white, never to be erased.

The End.


End file.
